


Here To Mars

by tootsonnewts



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, basically these boys are hella soft for each other, but they're taking their time, it's chill, sarcasm abounds, so does cursing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-29
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-10-25 07:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10759293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tootsonnewts/pseuds/tootsonnewts
Summary: There’s a particular time of the early summer when, if you drive down a wooded road during late afternoon, the sun hits the trees just right, making them burst into the warmest golden green in the world. This, Yuri thinks, is how he feels when he looks at Otabek Altin. Just…warm. He isn’t quite ready to tell him this, but when they’re getting dressed on the morning of their wedding some years from now, he’ll write it in a letter for his eyes only.This will make Otabek cry. Because of course it fucking will.





	Here To Mars

**Author's Note:**

> So basically, I have a lot of head canons about how the boys interact and are just soft and in love with each other, but still sarcastic and goofy as shit.
> 
> I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> \---------------
> 
> [Story Title Song: Here To Mars by Coheed and Cambria](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=svyLMR7yjhU)

There’s a particular time of the early summer when, if you drive down a wooded road during late afternoon, the sun hits the trees just right, making them burst into the warmest golden green in the world. This, Yuri thinks, is how he feels when he looks at Otabek Altin. Just…warm. He isn’t quite ready to tell him this, but when they’re getting dressed on the morning of their wedding some years from now, he’ll write it in a letter for his eyes only.

This will make Otabek cry. Because of course it fucking will.

As for now, he will content himself with being the Hero of Kazakhstan’s best friend. But just for now. Until he can figure out how to open his usually big-ass mouth and barf his feelings all over his best friend’s beautiful, beautiful face. It’s not really that his feelings are altogether secret. In fact, basically everyone he knows is aware (a fact that Mila _looooves_ to remind him of). He’s even fairly certain that Otabek is aware (he is), and occasionally, he gets the overwhelming feeling that he reciprocates (he does, he really does). But when you consider the idea of not knowing and holding on to the closest, most intimate friendship that anyone could ever have over the idea of knowing and possibly losing that friendship, the silence is sort of mandatory.

Because really, their friendship is unusual. Yuri knows it, Otabek knows it, everyone else knows it. It’s been years since they met (well, re-met — don’t rub it in) and became friends, but over that time, the nature of their relationship has changed and deepened. So have they as people, he finds. There’s maturity on his end that wasn’t there when he was a feisty 15 year old (duh). There’s a lightness to Otabek that wasn’t quite as visible when he was a mischievous and brooding 19 year old (less duh, but there you have it). That, combined with the ability to relate to the pressure they both face in their day-to-day lives, has created a solid foundation of careful understanding between them. They’ve done a lot of growing up together, really. They still are. Because of this, they enjoy a rare closeness that he knows not many people have in any of their relationships at all. Yuri knows that it’s rare to find a friendship where you can communicate without words, but just with a slight quirk of a lip or twitch of a brow. It’s rare to be able to sit for hours in silence and still have the feeling that you participated in a full conversation, or to have a full conversation and circle back later without it feeling stale. It’s rare to be able to bask in the warmth of casual touches or playing with each other’s hair while you absentmindedly watch a movie on the couch (okay, maybe that one is a little more than unusual, but it works for them, you know?) and Yuri enjoys it immensely. He doesn’t want to lose that.

Either way, Yuri still feels lucky on the dawn of his off-season break during his 19th year, because he knows that he is about to spend his regularly scheduled three solid weeks with the love-of-his-life slash ultimate-best-friend. They swap off each year on who visits whom, so this year, Yuri has prepared his finest (read as: only) guest bedroom in St. Petersburg and set multiple alarms in order to wake up in time to meet Otabek at the airport.

Yuri’s favorite part of Otabek visiting is the first hour upon arriving back at Yuri’s tiny two-bedroom apartment. It’s during this hour that Otabek walks in, full-body stretches, and sighs just inside the entryway right before he removes his hoodie and shoes at the door as if he’s coming home after a long business trip. After that, he wordlessly lets himself into the guest room, putting his clothes away in the chest of drawers kept empty just for him. When this process is complete, he’ll walk back out to find Yuri in the kitchen making tea, and as the bags steep, they’ll smile at each other across the kitchen bar and finally, _finally_  feel complete. This sequence happens much the same way when Yuri visits Almaty, and it always ends with a hitch in breathing for whoever’s turn it is to be the one walking into the kitchen (it will stay this way, even years after they’ve settled down together and the routine becomes a morning ritual). Later, Otabek will tell Yuri that this was always his favorite part, too (what a fucking sap).

It’s with this thought warming his chest that Yuri climbs into his cheap car, a practicality carried over from his youth with his grandfather, to begin his drive to the airport (on time, thank you very much, three alarm clocks and cell phone). Just before he starts the car, he shoots off a quick text to Victor/Yuuri and Mila, like always: **going to pick up beka, you know the drill.** He receives two identical replies, like always: **have fun, make good choices! ;)**

Yuri rolls his eyes and pulls out of his parking space.

Just because everyone knows doesn’t mean he likes it rubbed in.

 

* * *

  

There are three things that Otabek knows for certain:

  1. You cannot fight time.
  2. Family cannot be replaced.
  3. Yuri Plisetsky is his best friend and soul mate.



Although he can’t fight time, he’d very much like to spend the rest of his with Yuri by his side. Although he cannot replace his beloved family, he would very much like to grow it with Yuri by his side. He isn’t quite ready to tell him this, but when they are standing at the altar on the afternoon of their wedding some years from now, he will read this list of undeniable facts out loud to Yuri in front of all their loved ones.

This will make Yuri cry. Because of course it fucking will.

As for now, he’s more than happy to pack a bag for his turn to fly to his best friend’s home and spend three weeks just being. They’re still athletes, they’ll still go to the gym and out for runs during their time together, but they get to be much more relaxed. They get to be much more…them.

See, the thing is, Otabek is not a dumb guy. He might be stubborn and proud at times, and a little bit of a trouble maker, but he’s not dumb. He knows the kind of relationship he and Yuri share. He knows the place they are slowly but surely drifting to (okay, it’s more of a controlled careening). He wants to get there, more than almost anything, but he just doesn’t think it’s quite time yet. And he’s okay with that. Relatively. It’s just that each time he and Yuri meet for any amount of time together, it gets harder to not space out when Yuri’s face blooms into that special smile that’s reserved just for him (it’s the same for Yuri). It gets harder to not stop walking because his heart stutters every time Yuri releases a peal of genuine, sparkling laughter (also the same for Yuri). It gets harder to not just grab his wrists and align their bodies and crush him to his mouth until he feels like he might absorb the other man (VERY MUCH the same for Yuri).

Otabek is also much more receptive than he thinks most people give him credit for. He knows that they both know what’s happening, and how they feel, and how tenuous their hold on their current status of friendship-bordering-on-not-so-friendship is. He knows everyone else in their lives knows that. It’s not that he’s scared to move them forward, and he knows (he’s fairly certain, anyway) that Yuri isn’t either, but they both just have so many obligations still. They’re both much more rational than people give them credit for. He knows that Yuri is not the same person he was when they met (well, re-met — he likes to rub it in), and he certainly isn’t either. They’ve both mellowed out in a lot of ways, but that’s how it goes with the passage of time. If you refer back to point 1, you just can’t fight it. But, he thinks, that’s a good thing. Their friendship didn’t start out this way, it just naturally came to evolve, and he’d like to let it keep doing that. Just for a while longer.

And so, that is why he is perfectly content to wake up on the morning of the first day of his off-season break during the summer of his 22nd year, because he knows that he is about to spend his regularly scheduled three solid weeks with the love-of-his-life slash ultimate-best-friend. He doesn’t need the three alarms and cell phone that he knows Yuri needs to wake up in time; just the one will do. He doesn’t stumble around, cursing in the dark, to get dressed and grab his things like he knows Yuri does; just a quick stretch and he’s ready to go. He always puts his suitcase and plane hoodie by the door, anyway, because it’s one less thing to fill his head on his way to something much more important and deserving of his attention, anyway. Pretty soon, he’ll be putting his things away in a place that feels much more like home just because of who is there, and that’s good. He’ll be sharing their customary cup of tea to help them settle in, and that’s better. He’ll be with the missing piece of his family. That’s his priority.

With this in the forefront of his brain, Otabek grabs his suitcase from the trunk of the cab he took to the airport, and heads to his gate to check in. When his plane is just about to taxi for take-off, he pulls his phone out and sends a quick text to his family, like always: **My plane is taking off soon, see you in a few weeks. I love you.** He receives the same response from his mother, like always: **Have fun, dear. Tell our other son hello. We love you.** He receives the same response from his younger sister, Aisulu, like always: **tell him i still think hes 2 good 4 u!** He receives the same response from his older brother, Serik, like always: **tell that boyfriend of yours to kiss you already, you old geezer. i can’t die before my brother gets married.**

Otabek sighs and turns off his phone.

Family cannot be replaced, but they can certainly be a pain in the ass.

 

* * *

 

Yuri is just sitting down with the cup of coffee he bought at an overpriced airport starbucks after standing in line for what he’s positive was a goddamn year when his phone meows at him to let him know he’s got a new message: **just landed, out in a few.** He smiles down at his screen, thankful nobody has recognized him with his hood pulled up, and replies in his usual eloquent manner: **k.**

A few minutes later, the stream of passengers from Otabek’s flight dump out into the arrivals area, and Yuri glances up to see the top of a familiar undercut weaving its way through the crowd. He uses this ammunition sparingly, but Yuri still revels in the fact that he’s grown to have a good 15.5 centimeters of height advantage. He is nothing if not a constant competitor. And maybe just a little bit petty. He stands with a smirk and strides over to his slightly disheveled Kazakh target for their customary greeting.

“Hey, asshole.”

( _I missed you so much_ )

“Hello, dickface.”

( _I missed you, too_ )

 

* * *

 

The first day of their time together is never very productive. Even though the flight honestly isn’t very long, there’s still something about hopping on a plane that sucks the energy right out through your spine and leaves you slumped against gravity. So, like always, after their precious cup of kitchen tea, the two make their way to the living room where Yuri grabs a book and sits on one end of the couch, while Otabek collapses, face-down, with his forehead pressed against Yuri’s thigh. Yuri’s cat, Margarita, hops up and settles in the small of his back like the queen she is, sitting upon her rightful throne.

Yuri cracks open the spine of his book (Otabek hates this. It always causes an argument. The argument always goes a little something like this: ‘Why buy a book if you’re just going to abuse it, Yura?!’ ‘Because I like holding the damn book, Beka.’ ‘Obviously not very much if you break its back every time you touch it, Yura.’ ‘IT’S NOT A HAMSTER, BEKA.’), and holds it in one hand, while he sinks his fingers into Otabek’s hair with the other. After their customary book fight, they catch up until Yuri hears snoring.

“How are mom and dad?”

“Fine, about the same as usual. They say hello. Dad’s knees are bothering him again.”

“Hmm. Grandpa’s, too. Maybe we should pack them off together to the home.”

“ _Yura._ ”

“Yeah, yeah. And Serik? Aisulu?”

“Still engaged. Still a brat. Still top of her class. Still a brat.”

“You love them.”

“I do.”

“How’s the gang?”

“Rowdy. Amir continues to profess his love for you.”

“He just wants to braid my hair.”

“Ah, but don’t we all?”

“Well, as long as I don’t have to. Grandpa wants us to stay for a few days longer this time.”

“Of course he does. He loves me.”

“ _Beka._ ”

 

* * *

 

Their second day together isn’t usually too much more productive, but they do run to the gym where they spend a couple hours keeping themselves in some semblance of a routine. This is where they also spend a couple hours very. purposefully. not. watching. each. other. This is where they also also discuss the upcoming season.

“So, Yura. What are your plans?”

“Plans for what?”

“Oh, you know, your trip to the moon. You know what you’ll be packing?”

“Fucking. YOU KNOW WHAT-”

“I was thinking about mixing something for you, if you want.”

“Oh. Really?”

“Yeah. I just downloaded some pretty good cat sounds I can slip in.”

“WHY. JUST. I DON’T DESERVE THIS.”

“You’re right. You really don’t deserve me.”

“ALTIN GODAMMIT.”

 

* * *

 

The next afternoon, Victor calls and asks them to join Yuuri and him for dinner at their place, and since Victor is sort of Yuri’s older brother figure, and Katsuki can make a mean meal, there’s really no reason to say no. Besides, even though he’ll still take this to the grave no matter how mellow he gets, Yuri really does love them (Katsuki slightly edges Victor out, though. It’s the food.).

As they sit down to hot bowls of katsudon, Victor turns his attention to Otabek to ask about his plans for this year’s programs. It’s a little odd, because Victor never usually asks about this kind of stuff until they’re a little bit closer to the season. Yuri is about to brush it off as him being a little wistful for skating, but Katsuki gets a look on his face like it’s about to rain and he forgot his umbrella, and Yuri nervously swallows the rice he’s chewing.

“So, have you given any thought to your exhibition skate possibilities?”

Yuri knows where this is going. He does not like it.

“I haven’t even thought of the other programs much, honestly. I have some ideas, but I’m nowhere near ready to even consider an exhibition yet.”

Yuri swears Victor’s eyes do that thing you see villains in anime do, where a glint of light slides across the surface just before they press the button on their death machine.

“Well, we can’t all have Welcome to the Madness, but I’m sure you’ll come up with something.”

There it is.

“I WAS FIFTEEN, OLD MAN.”

 

* * *

 

A few days later, the pair are walking through the city looking at the sights when Otabek suddenly stops in his tracks.

“Yura, I just realized something.”

“Oh yeah? That I’m going to crush you this season?”

“Not possible, but no. I just realized what I want my theme to be this year.”

Yuri looks at Otabek in confusion, because they just passed a literal dumpster, and there are so many jokes he can make, but he knows now isn’t the time, so he battles with his innate pettiness and just asks, “Really? Just like that?”

As if he realizes the thought that just zipped through Yuri’s brain, Otabek sighs just a little bit and answers, “Yes. Companionship,” and levels a very meaningful gaze directly at Yuri. He doesn’t miss the way Yuri’s ears turn slightly pink, or the way he has to swallow very deliberately before replying.

“Oh.”

 

* * *

 

On the final day of their first week together, they get their bags in order to go visit Yuri’s grandfather in Moscow. They visited last time Otabek was in town, but they only stayed for a couple nights before heading back to St. Petersburg. This year, Grandpa has specifically requested they stay for five days – no more, no less. Yuri’s fine with it. Despite how flippantly he speaks about it, he knows Grandpa is getting older, and he loves the man more than almost anyone, so any extended time together he can get is good time in his book.

This is also good, he tells Otabek as they load up the car, because that means they can slyly do some chores for the old man and use the extra time they’ll be in town as an excuse. There’s nothing that makes Otabek feel quite like he does when he watches Yuri talk about someone he loves – the way his eyebrows inch ever closer to his hairline, the catlike grin that threatens to split his face in two, the softness his eyes take on. Once, Otabek walked into the room when Yuri was describing watching him skate a program that won him gold at Skate America and he had the very same look on his face. Otabek had to turn right back around and leave the room before he did anything very, very stupid.

When they arrive at Grandpa’s apartment, Yuri bounds inside with his usual finesse and nearly tackles Nikolai in his eagerness to greet him. Sometimes, Otabek thinks, Yuri really does forget he’s not a cat. From around the mass of blonde hair and willowy muscles, Nikolai peeks an eye out to regard Otabek.

“Mister Altin. You look well.”

“As do you, Nikolai.”

“Have you anything for me this time?”

“Just my warmest regards.”

The two share a few beats of silence, meaningful in the way that Yuri and Otabek often share, only this is a silence Yuri can’t quite puzzle out. As quickly as the mood settles, however, it’s broken when Otabek clears his throat and adds, “Also, I don’t think I’m supposed to tell you this, but we plan to clean for you and use our extended stay as an excuse.”

Grandpa looks directly at Yuri and says, “I knew I liked you, Mister Altin.”

After dinner, the boys head to Yuri’s childhood bedroom to get their sleeping arrangements set up for the night. Since Grandpa is a very firm believer in treating your guests with the utmost respect, Otabek gets the bed, while Yuri sets up what can only be described as a nest of blankets and pillows on the floor. As they settle in for the night, Otabek reaches out to Yuri on the floor and waits. When Yuri grabs his hand and squeezes, Otabek says, “Yura, you know you don’t have to stay down there. I mean, I know this thing is designed for a six-year-old, but it _is_ your bed. You can take half.”

Without missing a beat, Yuri replies, “The only way we’re both fitting on that thing is if I spoon you, and I don’t think you need your dignity jostled this evening.”

“You can jostle me whenever you want, Yura.”

As Yuri chokes to death on the floor, Otabek chuckles and lets go of his hand.

 

* * *

 

After two days of the most intense cleaning you could ever hope to witness two young men accomplish under the scrutiny of what turns out to be a dusting tyrant, the trio sit down to another home cooked meal in the cozy kitchen. After eating the piroshky lovingly prepared by Nikolai, with Yuri half-dictating half-explaining the process for Otabek to follow along, Grandpa stands from his chair and motions for Otabek to follow him to the living room.

“Yuratchka, please do the dishes.”

Yuri knows when he’s being diverted, so he very purposefully does the dishes in total silence, making as little noise as possible, although that doesn’t much help because how the hell do you wash pots and pans in silence, honestly.

The first time Otabek visited, Nikolai roped him into this very same situation, although the meeting occurred on the little balcony just outside, rather than in the living room. Yuri was seventeen at the time, and Otabek was twenty. Needless to say, when Nikolai began interrogating him about his intentions with his grandson, he was royally confused. He had actually been seeing an American snowboarder he met at one of JJ’s charity events for a few months by that time, and even Yuri liked her, so he wasn’t entirely sure what gave the impression that there _were_ any intentions aside from friendship. When he voiced this to Nikolai, he received the kind of stare that makes you feel like you’re being x-rayed. After a painfully uncomfortable amount of time, Nikolai just hummed a bit and said, “Please let me know when you’re ready to bring me the truth.”

Otabek is shaken out of this reverie by Nikolai carefully tapping the ashes out of his pipe over an ashtray before gazing across at him and re-packing it with fresh tobacco before lighting it. Yuri must have either heard or smelled this, because a grumble from the kitchen floats across the doorway. The words are muffled, but Otabek is fairly certain he hears, “…kill you…keep that up…do it myself…”

Nikolai grunts without shifting his gaze and asks, “Are you ready?”

Otabek blanches and replies, “I don’t think either of us are, Nikolai.”

“Hmmm. Well at least you didn’t bring me lies.”

“I never have, Nikolai.”

“So you brought them to yourself. Interesting.”

Their conversation dissolves into thoughtful silence on one end, and expectant silence on the other. Yuri finishes up the dishes in the kitchen and walks into the room before stopping short and saying, “What the fuck, are you two planning a war? It’s fucking tense as shit in here.”

“Language, Yuratchka. You may be at home here, but that doesn’t mean we need to welcome any madness, hmmm?”

Silence. For just a moment.

“THAT WAS OVER THREE YEARS AGO. WHY WON’T ANYONE LET IT GO, JESUS CHRIST.”

As Yuri stomps to the bathroom to brush his teeth, Nikolai gives Otabek a sweeping glance and says, “Before I die, if you please.”

Otabek can’t fully take in the fact that he basically just received tacit approval before ever even making a move, because he swears to god, this family is so fatalistic.

 

* * *

 

The night before they head back to St. Petersburg for the last week of their time together finds them out on the shovel talk balcony tending to the potted plants scattered about. Otabek knows he’ll never fully acknowledge this about himself, but Yuri is basically a greenery wizard. Everything he touches thrives and blooms and grows just right. There’s a metaphor buried somewhere in there, but he’s not going to touch it.

“Jesus, Beka. You can’t just say shit like that without a warning.”

Well. If it helps, he didn’t mean to say it out loud, so it was a surprise for both of them.

“You said that shit out loud, too. What, did you get a brain injury sometime today that I don’t know about?”

Yuri still has the habit of slipping into unneeded aggression when he gets overwhelmed sometimes. This seems to be one of those times. Otabek remembers to keep his mouth shut around this thought.

“Either way, I mean it. You cultivate a lot of things effortlessly. I admire that about you.”

Yuri’s eyes soften in the way that they only do for Otabek, and he has to suppress a shiver.

“thank you.”

 

* * *

 

They decide to take advantage of the long drive back by making random stops to “regard the scenery,” as Otabek puts it. “To act like we’re in a goddamn Jane Austen novel, you mean,” is how Yuri describes it, although he doesn’t argue. In this way, they waste a few extra hours, but they spend those hours in peace and quiet with each other, loose and comfortable. Although, because Yuri is still Yuri, a good amount of photos are taken for Instagram along the way.

More often than not, admiring the general splendor of nature is something reserved for Almaty, but Otabek has noticed that over time, Yuri has tried more and more to blend the things they both love and excel at into their visits. Grandpa and Nature. Food and Competition. Sarcasm and Seriousness and Family. Cultivation. Otabek feels like maybe their garden will be ready soon.

 

* * *

 

Yuri knows shit, okay. He knows how to do things with his body that most people only dream of being able to do. He knows how to win medals doing those things. He knows how to cook a decent dinner. He knows how to care for plants and cats. He knows how to drive in Russia without dying (well, that’s mostly chance, but he’s survived thus far). He knows how to calculate density by water displacement in a container of a given size (look, he’s nothing if not practical, so of course he’s working on a degree for when he can’t skate anymore). He knows how to flirt. He knows when he’s being flirted with. He knows Beka has been leaning heavy on the flirting for the past few weeks. He knows what a date is. He knows he’s about to go out on one. He knows Beka will deny this.

It’s the night before Otabek gets on a plane and goes back to Almaty to start training again, while Yuri does the same thing here, and they don’t see each other in person again for who knows how long. Usually, this night is reserved for pigging out on shitty food and watching terrible horror movies, but that pattern seems to have bored Otabek, because at half past six, he marched into Yuri’s bedroom, interrupting the important process of brushing out Margarita’s fur by throwing a dress shirt in his face.

“Put that on, change your pants, put on some nice shoes, and meet me in the living room by seven, we have a reservation at eight.”

Otabek can always be relied upon to be perfectly straightforward, and sometimes it knocks Yuri just enough off center that he doesn’t quite register what’s been said. This is one of those times.

So, when he strolls into the living room at precisely one minute past seven, because he still likes to be a shit sometimes, his mind immediately catches up as the wind leaves his lungs when his eyes catch on Otabek, standing in all his golden glory in a well-fitted button up shirt & tie, fitted slacks, and dress shoes (where the fuck did he have dress shoes?), and oh fuck, this is a date.

He eyes Otabek for a second before dropping an extremely well-spoken, “The fuck, Altin?”

“I thought it might be nice to do something different this time. Come on.”

The restaurant is really nice, Yuri’s never been here, and if he tells anyone about this, he’s gonna catch shit forever (he does eventually tell, and he does, in fact, catch shit forever).

Surprisingly, however, he and Otabek still treat this dinner like any of the other countless dinners they’ve shared, by filling their time with talk of the upcoming season, what they’ll be doing for the rest of summer, how nice Yuri looks in adult clothes, wait, what.

“I’m just saying, you could stand to clean up a little more often.”

“Fuck you, my fashion sense is amazing.”

“Well, at the very least, it’s unique.”

“Listen, Altin, I’d like to see you try and pull it off.”

“…I’d like to see that, too.”

Okay. Okay. That sentence can mean things. Let’s narrow this down.

“Fuck you, I always look fantastic.”

“You do.”

Otabek does that thing again where he looks directly into Yuri’s eyes and Yuri knows it means that he’s saying these things in exactly the way he knows that Yuri thinks he’s saying these things.

“Beka-”

“It’s getting pretty late and my flight is early. We should get going.”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

 

* * *

 

Surprisingly, or unsurprisingly really, there’s no odd tension the next day, because Yuri and Otabek both know what last night meant (and also, they don’t really know what tension is yet. Soon enough they will, but not yet. They’ll laugh about this later.). It’s another step toward the eventuality they both fully know they’re skidding toward. At this point, they both know their fate. They’ve accepted it. They welcome it. It’s not here yet, but it’s coming, and there’s a sort of peace to knowing that but not fully acknowledging it.

Maybe it’s this peace that drives them toward the departure gate in comfortable silence. Maybe it’s what makes them stop at the same time and face each other, still draped in silence. Maybe it’s what makes Otabek reach out, place his hand on the small of Yuri’s back, and whisper, “Until next time, Yura,” into Yuri’s neck. Maybe it’s what keeps Yuri from flinching or pulling away before anyone can notice them. But it’s not what makes him smile just a little bit and take Otabek’s free wrist, pulling it to his mouth to kiss it lightly over his pulse before saying, “You should go, you’ll miss your flight.”

Yuri is nothing if not stupidly in love.

( _Otabek is nothing if not stupidly in love._ )

**Author's Note:**

> So there you have it.
> 
> [if you'd like, you can find me on tumblr](https://tootsonnewts.tumblr.com/)


End file.
